April 17
Like an Elf Working in an Empty Tree
The chairs in the loft are empty, but I still hear the choir
sing. The bottle though it’s empty,
still sometimes calls my name. Though
front pocket is empty and there is rolled up empty sleeve, still the nicotine
haunts my dreams. On this empty road I travel, I still long for company. The stillness is not all that’s empty, but I
run to fill that spot. Chaos is like a
tapeworm it eats me from inside, but in the meantime I still believe it’s
filling me.
Curve around what is sharp on your tongue
*
HOW THINGS SEEM
Not everyone who
pushes me down is my enemy
Not everyone who
pulls me up is my friend
I have been seduced
by the closeness of people
Who used me as their
shield
When I have been
held in a place of honor
The point man
of life
I forgot that made me
the replacement target
For the one who stood
behind me
I have been offended
as I was thrown to the ground
The hands that shoved
me I saw as my rejecters
I was spared the
tragedy and peril of the thing which flew by my ear
Thanks only to the
grace of a thrust in the right direction
Accurate appraisal is
my weakness
Seeing thing for what
they are is hard
Things are rarely how
they seem
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